Let Your Lungs Return To Air
by Themisto's-Heart
Summary: A nightly excursion in monster hunting to the Columbia River gets a bit more exciting than Monroe is comfortable with. Nick whump, hurt/comfort, language, violence, eventual Monroe/Nick.


SUMMARY: A nightly excursion in monster hunting to the Columbia River gets a bit more exciting than Monroe is comfortable with. Nick whump, hurt/comfort, language, violence, eventual Monroe/Nick.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Nothing's mine. And beware. English is not my first language, but I hope the story is readable. Title taken from William Fitzsimmons' lyrics to "From the Water". Based on a prompt from the Kinkmeme. An uncensored version is available at AO3.

* * *

Monroe had planned to spend a relaxed evening with some wine, a good book, and some classical music. The weather outside was truly frightful, so his living room seemed more comfortable than usual. But the insistent ringing of his phone derailed his plans. Monroe looked heavenward and answered the phone with a heartfelt sigh of resignedness.

"What is it this time, Nick?"

-o-o-o-

"Dude, _no_. There's no way in hell that I'm going into that river!"

Monroe and Nick stood on the bank of the Columbia River and stared into the choppy water. Monroe wondered what he had done to deserve this. Helping Nick out wasn't really a hardship, but why did it have to be Seeschlangen? They were just nasty.

"Monroe, c'mon…"

"No, Nick. I told you before that we can't confront them in the water."

"Nobody is confronting anybody here. I just want to talk to them."

"Then talk to them on land!"

"I plan to. But to accomplish that, I have to get their attention. And to get their attention, we have to go into the water."

Nick sounded like he was talking to an especially slow-witted child. What the hell!? Monroe tried to swallow his outrage, but enough was enough. Due to the heavy rain he was already soaked to the bone, he was starting to feel chilly (only slightly, but still), his relaxed evening lay in ruins, and they were facing potentially deadly (and slimy) foes. Nick's recklessness was the straw that broke the camel's back. Monroe snapped indignantly, "I don't know why you always insist on taking me along on your harebrained excursions when you never…"

Monroe's rant was cut short, because Nick was suddenly gone. Well, he wasn't really gone, he was in the river. A Seeschlange had wrapped several of its purple tentacle-like appendages around the Grimm, had dragged him into the water, and now apparently tried to drown him.

"Nick!"

Monroe rushed into the freezing water. The current was stronger than he had anticipated and he had to struggle to keep his footing. Nick had managed to free himself from most of the appendages and he had regained his feet, but the drift was mercilessly tugging at him. Monroe heard Nick's exasperated shout, "Stop, goddamn it! I just want to talk with you!"

The Seeschlange gargled some kind of answer, which Monroe didn't catch over the pounding of the rain and the rushing of the river. But apparently the Seeschlange wasn't in a chatty mood, because it redoubled its attempts to drown Nick. Nick's "talk first, behead later"-approach was usually something Monroe was quite pleased with, but maybe this time he should reconsider his stance. Seeschlangen were creepy fucks.

Nick finally managed to pull the silver dagger he had taken with him for protection and started to stab and slice at the tentacles. The Seeschlange shrieked piercingly, but it still tried to do Nick in.

Monroe had almost reached them, when something wrapped itself around his right ankle and pulled. Monroe was too surprised to keep his balance and he went under the water. For a second he felt wildly disoriented, but then his instincts kicked in and Monroe gladly went along for the ride. Two Seeschlangen swarmed over him. Monroe slashed at them and their inky blood swirled in the water. His attack had freed him and Monroe surged to his feet. The Seeschlangen launched another attack, but this time the Blutbad was ready. The Seeschlangen had the home advantage in the water, but Monroe was not only stronger than them, he was now well and truly pissed. Monroe was slashing, ripping, and rending. One of the Seeschlangen floated facedown downriver, the second one fled keening into the waves. That was more like it. Monroe turned back to Nick and his attacker and icy shock rippled through him.

The first Seeschlange had managed to overpower Nick and held him now under water. And Nick wasn't moving anymore. Monroe was at their side in a second. He grabbed the Seeschlange at the throat and twisted its head back. His fingers slipped on the slimy scales, but he dug his claws in to secure his hold. The Seeschlange's tentacles whipped crazily around him, but Monroe didn't relinquish his hold. Finally he heard a satisfying crack and the Seeschlange went limp in his grip. Monroe flung the carcass carelessly aside and grasped Nick's shoulders. He hefted him out of the water and took a look at him. What he saw was horrifying. Nick's face was unnaturally pale and his lips had a bluish tint. His eyes were half-open, but unseeing. Several shallow cuts marred his neck and his hands. Monroe hoisted Nick into his arms and stumbled towards the bank. Nick wasn't breathing. He wasn't _breathing_!

When they had cleared the river, Monroe placed Nick carefully on the ground. His fingers felt for Nick's pulse. Nothing. His skin felt cold – _corpse-cold_, Monroe's brain treacherously suggested – to his touch.

"Nononononono, don't do this!"

Monroe's previous anger at Nick was completely forgotten and naked fear was gnawing at him. What should he do? What should he do, if he couldn't revive Nick? Goddamn Seeschlangen! Goddamn fucked up Grimm-business!

Fortunately Monroe's frantic train of thought didn't impair his ability to help Nick. While his head was spinning and more and more upsetting scenarios played themselves out there, he straightened Nick's neck, tipped his head back, and checked his airways. They were free. Monroe closed Nick's nose. He leaned over, sealed his lips over Nick's, and he blew some air into Nick's lungs.

So, this was the first time his and Nick's lips met. Fuck! This was _not_ how Monroe had imagined it. Not that he had been thinking about that a lot. God, who was he kidding? Of course he had been thinking about it a lot, but in his daydreams their first kiss was a lot more romantic. And the situation leading up to it was a tiny bit less life-or-deathy. And in his head Nick actually did respond to the kiss. God, this was fucked up.

Monroe pushed Nick's sodden jacket aside. He placed his hands over Nick's breastbone and started the compressions. He counted them under his breath and when he completed the thirtieth, he leaned over and repeated the mouth-to-mouth respiration. Nick showed no signs of life.

Monroe repeated the reanimation. Why did this take so long? In the movies this kind of thing looked always so easy and uncomplicated. Did he do something wrong? What should he do, if he couldn't bring Nick back? What should he do, if Nick died out here? He couldn't lose Nick. The thought alone made him feel faint with fear.

Monroe restarted the chest compressions. When he reached the tenth compression, he felt something give in Nick's chest. Monroe gritted his teeth. Fuck! He _hated_ the idea of hurting Nick, but he had no other choice. He couldn't just stop now.

Suddenly Nick sucked in a gasping breath.

"_Nick_! Oh, thank God. Thank _God_."

Monroe gently grasped Nick's shoulders and helped him turn sideways. He was coughing and retching and Monroe noted that he had skipped dinner today. Well, in this case that was probably for the best. And in the movies this kind of thing looked easier, less gross, and especially less painful too.

Nick had started to shiver uncontrollably and he tried to curl into himself. Monroe stopped his movements, brushed Nick's sodden fringe out of his eyes, and asked, "You with me, Nick?"

Nick groaned again and coughed weakly. His grey eyes looked glassy and dull and he seemed to have trouble focusing on Monroe. His voice sounded painfully rough when he stuttered, "C-C-Cold…"

Well, no fucking wonder. Monroe himself was rather chilled; he didn't want to imagine how a nearly-drowned human was feeling in these conditions.

"I know, but it's gonna be okay, Nick."

Nick's eyes had closed and new anxiety gnawed at Monroe. He gently cupped the Nick's pale cheek. His skin was still far too cool, but his eyes opened a fraction.

"Nick?"

"M-Monroe? What happened?"

Monroe had to take a deep breath to calm himself. Nick was breathing, he was conscious, and he seemed mostly coherent. The worst was over.

"Ursula nearly got you, man. This was a close call. _Never_ do that to me again, you hear me?"

Another bout of coughing racked Nick. He grimaced and moaned weakly.

"Ow. My chest hurts."

"Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but there was no other way."

Nick looked like a kicked and half-dead puppy, when he faintly asked, "W-Why did you hurt me?"

Monroe swallowed hard. "You nearly drowned. I had to revive you."

"Drowned?"

Okay. Maybe Nick wasn't as coherent as Monroe had initially thought.

"The Seeschlangen, remember? You wanted to talk to them. But they, well, they didn't want to talk to you."

Nick looked like he had never heard the term "Seeschlange" before. The confusion in his eyes was not reassuring. Monroe explained further, "You called me earlier this evening. Several people went missing in the river area and you wanted to talk to the Seeschlangen that live here."

"Where are we?"

"At the Columbia River."

"And I drowned?"

"Yeah. And you scared the crap outta me."

"But why does my chest hurt?"

Monroe couldn't stop himself; he touched Nick's cheek again.

"I guess I broke one of your ribs, when I revived you. I'm so sorry."

Nick coughed again and blinked slowly. He looked like his memory was a total blank. Monroe decided that they could continue this winding conversation on their way to the car. He needed to get Nick out of the cold. He probably should take the other man to the hospital, but how should he explain his sorry state? The drowning he could maybe explain in some way, but what about the cuts from the tentacles? And the thought alone of leaving Nick out of his sight made his instincts almost run amok. No, he would take Nick home. If his condition worsened, he always could take him to a doctor.

-o-o-o-

"I'm tired…"

"I know, Nick. You can rest soon."

Monroe steered Nick into the bathroom. He needed to get him out of his soaked clothes and warmed up. Nick still hadn't managed to wrap his head around what had happened and his confusion was worrying Monroe more and more.

Monroe peeled Nick's sodden jacket off. When Monroe pulled his sweater and his t-shirt off, Nick whimpered in pain. There were more cuts on his lower arms and a lurid bruise had formed on the center of his chest. Monroe winced in sympathy.

So this was the first time Monroe was undressing Nick. Well, this he had imagined a lot different too. Monroe suppressed a sigh. Nick was swaying on his feet and Monroe steadied him. He only hoped he was doing the right thing here. Monroe helped Nick out of his jeans and the rest of his clothes. He tried to stay as detached as possible, which was actually easier than he had anticipated. Nick was clearly unwell and in pain. His weakened state and especially his persisting confusion weren't exactly an aphrodisiac. At this point Monroe just wanted to make Nick feel better. He just wanted to protect him.

Monroe had finally managed to get Nick into the bathtub. He kept a steadying hand on Nick's shoulder – the last thing they needed was for Nick to face plant into the tub – while he turned on the water. Even though it was barely lukewarm, Nick groaned in discomfort and tried to hunch away from the spray. Monroe held him in place.

"I know this hurts, Nick, but you need to get warmed up."

A few moments later Nick started to relax in his grip and Monroe turned up the water temperature a tiny bit. They repeated this game a few more times. Nick's wobbling got progressively worse and Monroe helped him sit down in the tub. Nick drew his legs close to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. He looked like a picture of misery. Monroe placed a gentle hand on the nape of his neck and asked, "How're you doing, Nick?"

His answer was so soft Monroe had to strain to hear it, "Breathing hurts…"

"Are you still cold?"

"A bit."

"But it's better than before, right?" Nick nodded faintly. Monroe gently stroked the curve of Nick's back and he had to smile, when Nick arched a bit into the caress. "Then let's get you out of the tub."

-o-o-o-

Monroe looked down at Nick. He was out cold. After bath time he had bandaged Nick's cuts and checked his ribs. He probably had broken some of them during the resuscitation, but at least there were no moving bone fragments under his skin. Nick's pain had enraged Monroe to a point where he had found it quite difficult to restrain himself. He had wanted to march out of the house, drive up to the Columbia River, fish those fucking Seeschlangen out of the water, and murder them all. Only the fact that Nick needed him had stopped him. So he had swallowed his rage, had helped Nick into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and had put him to bed. Nick had fallen asleep before his head had barely touched the pillow.

Monroe bent forward to straighten out the twisted sheets and blankets, when he suddenly felt watched. He looked up. Nick's eyes were open and they looked clear and focused.

"Nick?"

Nick groaned and muttered, "Did I get kicked by a Siegbarste or something?"

Monroe took a seat on the edge of the bed and asked, "What do you remember?"

Nick threw an arm over his eyes and mumbled, "Columbia River. Seeschlangen. One of those fucks dragged me into the water."

Monroe released a shaky breath. Nick's return of memory had to be a good sign. Monroe had been afraid that Nick's brain had taken some kind of damage during the time without oxygen. This fear he thankfully could now lay to rest.

"The fuck drowned you."

Nick lowered his arm and stared incredulously at Monroe. "_Drowned_? No breathing and stuff?"

Monroe nodded. "No breathing and stuff. Scared me nearly witless."

"Wow. Shit." Nick frowned. "Well, I guess that explains why my chest feels like someone has parked an elephant on it and why breathing hurts like hell."

"I am so sorry, man…"

"I'm really sorry…"

Both men had spoken almost simultaneously and now stared in surprise at each other. Monroe recovered first and said, "I know I should have been more careful, but I kinda panicked and…"

"Monroe, no. You saved my life. I owe you big time. Forget about my ribs. I'm so sorry for scaring you. And I'm sorry for getting you always into these impossible situations."

Monroe couldn't contain himself any longer. He reached out and grasped Nick's hand. He gently squeezed and smiled when Nick returned the pressure.

"Don't think about it, Nick. It's okay. I'm just glad you're okay."

"No, no. I really should listen more to your advice. I'm sorry for brushing you off earlier."

"Alright, Nick. We'll talk about it, when you feel better, okay? Just rest a bit more. It's still in the middle of the night."

"Okay."

Monroe held onto Nick's hand until he had fallen asleep.

-o-o-o-

Monroe worriedly poked his head into Nick's room. Over the course of the night Nick's cough had gotten progressively worse and now he sounded like he was breathing his last in there.

"Nick? Dude, you alright?"

Nick lay on his side, his back turned towards the door and another bout of coughing racked him. A soft groan of agony reached Monroe's ears and he entered the room fully.

"Nick?"

"God, please just kill me…"

His voice sounded painfully rough and scratchy and it wasn't more than a faint whisper. He had his arm braced around his chest. Monroe winced in sympathy. Nick's broken ribs must nearly kill him and this almost constant coughing was surly not helping. Another round of wet coughing shook Nick and this time he was whimpering. Monroe placed a hand on Nick's trembling shoulder and turned him onto his back. Nick was deathly pale and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face. Tears of pain were rolling down his cheeks and Monroe felt a sudden pang. He gently placed one of his hands against Nick's cheek. He felt fever hot. He leaned seemingly unconsciously into the contact and muttered weakly, "Oooow. If you don't wanna kill me, then knock me out, will you?" Nick sniffled pitifully. "I want it to stop. Everything hurts."

Fuck. Monroe had hoped that their bath time in the river had no further consequences, but apparently his high hopes had been premature. Nick's cough sounded terrible and every breath he took was accompanied by a rattle in his chest. Monroe was no specialist, but he feared that Nick had gotten pneumonia. Monroe chewed indecisively on his lower lip. He had some herbal remedies at home that battled fever and coughing, but maybe now was the time to bring in some qualified medical help. But there still were Nick's cuts…

Monroe sighed and said, "Give me a minute, Nick. I'll fix some medicine for you."

Nick sniffled again and nestled back into the pillows. Monroe hustled out of the room and down the stairs into his kitchen. He rooted through his pantry in search of his remedies. He really hoped they would do the trick.

-o-o-o-

"You have to drink this. It'll help you."

Nick grimaced and muttered weakly, "Urgh. It tastes awful."

Nick was leaning half against the headboard and half against Monroe and carefully sipped his medicine. He grimaced again, but he didn't protest any further. He coughed intermittently and his little sounds of pain set Monroe's teeth on edge. He desperately wanted to undo the damage he had done. Why hadn't he been more careful? If he hadn't panicked, he wouldn't have hurt Nick.

"Don't."

Monroe looked down at Nick, who had spoken suddenly.

"What?"

"You look like Timmy's stuck in a well, dude. This here isn't your fault."

Monroe knew that Nick liked to tease him with various canine comparisons and he liked to respond to them with his usual sarcasm, but this time he refrained from engaging in their customary banter. Nick looked like death warmed over and his voice was scratchy and hoarse. So Monroe instead simply asked, "What are you talking about?"

"It's my own fault that I'm this sick. I shouldn't have gone to the river at night. I should have listened to you. And without your help, I'd be toast."

A bout of coughing shook Nick and Monroe steadied his hand that was wrapped around the cup.

"Easy, Nick, easy."

Nick snuggled closer to Monroe, who said, "Well, I won't argue with you about your recklessness, but I should have been more careful as well."

Nick frowned and Monroe almost expected him to protest about Monroe's choice of words, but he coughed and simply muttered, "Why don't we say we both should have been more careful and call it a day? I'm too tired for this."

"Works for me." Monroe smiled a bit and changed the topic. "Are you hungry?"

"God, no. I just wanna rest."

Monroe stood up, took the cup out of Nick's subtly shaking hand, and helped him recline back into his cushions. Nick wriggled around for a moment and pulled his blankets up to his chin. Monroe barely resisted the impulse to brush a hand through Nick's tousled hair.

"You comfortable?"

Nick nodded and asked softly, "Stay with me?"

Monroe sat down again. This time he followed his instinct. His fingers carded gently through Nick's hair.

-o-o-o-

Monroe sat at his kitchen table and slowly sipped his coffee. It was early morning and rain was still falling. Nick had spent the rest of the night relatively peaceful, even though his fever was still unbroken. Monroe himself had snatched a few moments of rest, but he felt bone tired. The stress of last night and his worry about Nick had made his sleep rather uneasy.

Monroe suddenly straightened in his seat and he listened intently. What had that been? Was Nick awake? Monroe rose and was on his way to the stairs, when Nick suddenly shouted, "Monroe! Monroe? No!"

Monroe was nearly running up the stairs. What was going on there? He couldn't smell an intruder. He barged into the bedroom, ready for everything, but there was only Nick, who was tangled in the sheets and twisted in obvious distress on the bed. Monroe was at his side in a blink and gently grasped his shoulders.

"Nick! Nick, wake up."

Heat was rolling off in waves from Nick's skin and he showed no reaction to Monroe's words. He tried to squirm out of Monroe's grip and croaked desperately, "No, no! Monroe! Let me go! I'll have to help him. _Monroe_!"

Oh, that was not good. Monroe tightened his hold on the trembling man and tried again to rouse Nick. This time his grey eyes opened. They were glassy and unfocused like back at the river and new worry gnawed at Monroe. Nick's fever seemed to be even higher than earlier. Monroe brushed Nick's sweat damp hair back and said, "It's okay. You're okay, I'm okay. Nothing bad has happened. You were dreaming. It was just a bad dream."

There was a truly heartbreaking expression on Nick's face as he stammered, "They… They hurt you. And I couldn't get to you. They wanted to kill you. And I… I…"

"Nick, look at me. C'mon, look at me." Nick raised his eyes. "See, I'm fine. I'm not hurt. And I'm most certainly not dead, okay."

Nick sniffled and after a beat he nodded. "O-okay."

"Okay. Let's get you a dry t-shirt. And I should change your sheets too."

Monroe assisted Nick sitting up, dug a t-shirt out of his closet, and helped him put it on. Nick was wincing, when he had to raise his arms, but it seemed that his pain had somewhat lessened.

"How does your chest feel?"

"Still hurts. But not as bad. And I don't have to cough as much."

So Monroe's remedies actually had helped. Good. Monroe stripped the sheets off the bed. He worked around Nick, who was hunched up and seemed barely able to keep his eyes open, and he made the bed with fresh linen.

"Time for little Grimms to get back into bed. C'mon."

Monroe helped Nick lie down and tucked him securely in. He turned to leave, when Nick grabbed his wrist with surprising strength. Something close to panic glittered in his eyes and he gasped, "No. Don't go. It's not safe."

"Dude, I'm just going to get you some more medicine. I'll be right back."

Nick looked doubtful, but he released Monroe's arm. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Monroe hurried down into the kitchen, prepared another cup of the remedy, and returned as fast as possible to Nick.

"Here we go."

Nick drank the herbal infusion without protest and then snuggled back into bed.

"Do you need anything else, Nick?"

"I'm cold. And I don't wanna be alone."

Monroe considered the situation for a moment. He probably shouldn't, but Nick looked so vulnerable and forlorn, that he just couldn't leave him like this. He crawled onto the bed and wrapped an arm around Nick, who cuddled immediately closer.

"Just rest. I'm not going to leave you. I'm gonna stay with you."

-o-o-o-

"What are you doing, man?"

"I was taking a leak. And now I wanna get back to bed."

Nick leaned against the frame of the door leading to the bathroom and he seemed to have trouble staying upright. Monroe stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Nick's waist to steady him. Slowly they made their way back to the bedroom.

"I could have called me, you know?"

Nick looked so affronted that Monroe nearly laughed. He grumbled, "I can manage my bodily fluids on my own."

"If you say so."

Monroe steered Nick back towards the bed. Nick's fever had broken yesterday evening, but he was still far too pale and shaky. His cough had gotten better as well and the rattle in his chest was almost gone.

Monroe helped Nick back into bed and tucked him in. Nick smiled up at him and whispered, "Thanks."

Monroe smiled back. "Don't mention it."

It looked like the worst was finally over.

Fin.


End file.
